Incomplete
by Psyche29
Summary: Songfic, lyrics sectioned in italics.


**A/N: This is a songfic written back in May of 2007 – I'd had the song in my head for weeks at the time and had all these angsty feelings I needed to unload, so this is how I did it. The song is _Incomplete,_ ****written by Dan Muckala, Jess Cates and Lindy Robbins; performed by The Backstreet Boys**** (okay, stop with the snickering).**

**Beware, I actually cried while writing some of this.**

**And as my sister is smart but not exactly a brainiac, I feel compelled to inform you that each new section is a new set of people.**

**And for form, I am not now, have never been, and will not ever be JK Rowling; I am merely playing in her exquisite sandbox.**

_Empty spaces fill me up with holes  
Distant faces with no place left to go  
Without you within me I can't find no rest  
Where I'm going is anybody's guess_

He stood just in the doorway, one hand braced on the jamb, watching helplessly as his reason for living tried – valiantly – to get to where he stood. He could see that mouth forming his name in a scream, over and over, but no sound reached his ears; there was only silence.

How could he have failed him so badly? How could he have been beaten? And by _her_, no less? Wasn't he on the side of good? Didn't he have a bond, a duty, to this boy, this child he loved as his own? He was still _needed_, there were still things he had to do here.

Or there. It wasn't the same existence anymore. He could never go back, some part of him knew it, deep within. But he wasn't _finished_, dammit! He hadn't shared all of his knowledge, all of his wisdom yet! There hadn't been time, not nearly enough time.

And there never would be. Not now, not here. And as the realization filled his mind, a tear slipped down his Azkaban-hardened cheek. He would never forgive himself.

_I tried to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete_

He stood in the shadows, behind the open door. She never slept with it closed, not since…since he'd gone. He'd been lost in that last battle, lost to the wildly cast _Avada Kedavra_ of a dying Death Eater. He'd been with her the moment his soul had leapt free of his shell, and she'd known. He could see the realization hit her not a second later, and all he could do was stand there with a lump in his throat and a hole in his chest while her eyes stared in dazed shock.

She'd been inconsolable. Their children – the ones who'd survived – had stayed close to her, never leaving her alone for more than a few hours at a time. Each one of them had put their own grief aside in the face of their mother's, with the Gryffindor courage that so characterized them all.

He'd been with her for nearly thirty years, and they had been each other's match in every way. He didn't know how to function, how to go on without her. She'd been his right hand, his everything.

And so he would continue to follow her, to stay near her, until she joined him. He would wait an eternity. He had no choice. He needed her.

_Voices tell me I should carry on  
But I am swimming in an ocean all alone  
Baby, my baby, it's written on your face  
You still wonder if we made a big mistake_

She hadn't gone on, gone with the others. How could she? Oh, they'd tried to coax her into coming along, but she'd refused. He was her life, her love, her heart. They'd had barely a year and so little joy. How could she join the others, join them and leave him here?

He sat crumpled in the corner of the bedroom, his face in his hands, his heart shattered. He looked eons older than his forty years, shabbier and…and…utterly defeated. The sobs shook her body, just as they shook his. She didn't want to be here, not without him.

Especially not now. She slid a hand across her flat stomach; she hadn't been given a moment in which to tell him. He'd never know what they'd done, what they'd made between them. But perhaps that was for the better. He already questioned the wisdom of allowing her past his defenses; she'd seen it in his eyes the minute he'd been informed of what had happened.

But even so, how could it have ended like this? Light and love were on their side, it was what they'd been fighting for. They'd all achieved it, yet she was here and he was there. It was so unjustifiable an offense, such a cruel fate. And with a tortured scream of anguish and despair and righteous indignation, she cursed the gods and their fickle hearts before curling herself around his shaking form. She would do her damnedest to warm his heart for the remainder of the time he'd been sentenced to this existence, without her. And when his life was complete, she'd be waiting for him. She had to be.

_I tried to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete_

She stood just behind him to the left; he'd knelt there at her grave to plant some herbs and blooms. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized he was planting rosemary and thyme along with chrysanthemums and tulips. They were her favorites, and he was laying them in with the care and skill of a knowing, loving hand. He loved her. She could see that he always had, now.

He looked so like his mum, but had the heart and gentleness of his father. Her son, her brave, strong child had been tortured to insanity along with his lovely wife, and she'd been left with a grandson. Losing him was unacceptable; she'd already lost her son and daughter-in-law. Compartmentalizing her feelings was the only defense she felt she had, and so she'd held him at arm's length all his life.

The reminder of her son had been difficult to face, but he'd always been a quiet child, always content with whatever he was given. He'd allowed her to push and prod him, to mold him the way she thought he should be. Yet here he'd grown into his own person, and one that any grandmother could be proud of.

She'd always been so unsentimental toward him, yet here he was, making sure she had her favorite things at her resting place. For the first time since he was born, tears slid down her cheeks. She'd be going on soon; it was the sensible thing to do. But she had to let him know she loved him, that she was so proud of him.

Back straight and standing tall, she stepped behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. And his broad shoulders stilled, his hands stopped their flexing and their digging, and she knew, however impossibly, that he'd felt it and understood.

"I love you too, Gran."

The words were low and rumbling, but she heard them nonetheless, and giving his shoulder a squeeze, she turned. She'd never be the same, not without him, not without any of them. But she could go on now; her husband had been waiting long enough.

_I don't mean to drag it on, but I can't seem to let you go  
I don't wanna make you face this world alone  
I wanna let you go (alone)_

It had been months, but he'd been unable to go on. Their bond was deep and intimate, as it had always been. One without the other had simply never been an option.

He'd died taking a spell meant for his brother. He'd seen it, heard it coming, and threw himself in its path without a thought for himself. He'd have done it for any member of his family, and gladly.

So why did he feel so selfish, so lost? He couldn't bring himself to sever the connection. He didn't know where he'd even begin, and wasn't sure he even wanted to. His twin rarely laughed anymore. He smiled occasionally, and he continued to run the shop. But there was no longer that spark, that basic joy they'd both always taken in life. How could he go on, knowing the other half of himself was so changed?

But maybe that was the key. Perhaps he didn't have to sever the connection; perhaps all it needed was to be stretched a little more. If he gathered his famed Gryffindor courage and moved on, went into the light where all the others had gone, could he find happiness there? And if he was at peace, could the man he'd been closest to find it, as well?

He'd never been the smarter of the two, but his heart, what was left of it, beat a fast tattoo against his chest, and he knew that this time, he was right. And so he embraced the soul mate life had blessed him with, held tightly for a minute, two, three, and then he turned and went into the light.

_I tried to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete_

He'd done it. He'd saved the entire world. Voldemort was gone, had spiraled down into the hell he'd created for himself. His own wand had been used against him, lost foolishly to a well-placed _Expelliarmus_ by the child he'd marked.

He should be happy and rejoicing – he was finally with his mum and dad, with Sirius and Dumbledore. But not with her. He'd turned on the field to grin at her, and she'd returned it with a shout of triumph. And as she watched, the last remaining Death Eater on the grounds shot one last killing curse.

Instead of embracing each other, she was on her knees at his side, lying across him and sobbing hysterically. And his heart burst into infinite pieces as the realization hit him; he'd been killed, and she had seen it happen. His best friends clung to each other not far away, neither able to bring themselves any closer to where she lay.

Her second-oldest brother had been the one to pry her away, using every ounce of the strength he'd gained from working with his dragons. This dragon seemed stronger than all of them put together in her refusal to leave her love's side.

She'd waited for him – patiently – for seven years. And was rewarded with his death. If he wasn't already dead, he'd be willing to bet she'd have killed him herself. His heart was empty, and though he was surrounded by people who loved him, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

He needed her, and now he couldn't have her. He would never be whole, not without her.

_Incomplete_

**Please let me know what you think!**


End file.
